fernsdelight
fernsdelight
Melanie
7 posts
A passion blog to help me regain the ability to think and write without AI :)
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fernsdelight · 2 days ago
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Heavy is the Crown
King!John Price x F!reader
A part 2 to this, you ask and you shall recieve
wc: 2706
Content warning: Heavy NSFW, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, virginity loss, cunnilingus, marriage, slight exhibitionism, talks of pregnancy.
John had spent months coaxing down your walls. He lavished you with the best cuts of meat, the finest furs the north could offer, and he was gracious enough to forgive your father for his past transgressions.
The king was even blessed enough to see you smile and laugh a few times.
But all his hard work to get you to come around to the idea of becoming his queen was for this very moment.
John stood before the grand altar, his eyes scanning the crowd of nobles, lords and ladies dressed in their finest attire, whispering amongst themselves. John’s heart beat rapidly in his broad chest with anticipation. This is the moment he had been waiting for for many years, and now it has finally come.
The cathedral was a magnificent sight, with soaring arches and intricate stained glass windows where the sun came through and cast a kaleidoscope of colours across the stone floors. The air was filled with the sweet scent of incense while the high court’s musicians glided their fingers over plucked string instruments like harps and lutes.
As the minutes ticked by, John began to grow worried. He had sent some servants to check on you, but still, you did not show. Just before he was about to send Sir Simon to get you, the cathedral doors swung open, and there you stood, your arm hooked into the elbow of his cavalry captain, Gaz; your father having refused to attend, the coward.
You were a vision of breathtaking beauty. John’s breath caught in his throat seeing your head held high, the sheer determination and lack of fear in your eyes. The music swelled as you began your walk down the aisle, a vision of white lace and silks, the bodice of your gown hugging you in all the right places while the skirt flowed behind you and shimmered like it was dipped in stardust. A delicate veil draped from a circlet made from gold and the finest jewels rested on your hair, already looking like a proper queen.
When they reached the altar, Gaz handed you off to John, his calloused hand intertwining with your own, offering you a gentle squeeze as you took your place by his side. The priest droned on about the traditional vows and the history of the Emerald Isles, neither of you really listening. You were thinking about the duties and responsibilities of being a queen, the weight that had been thrust upon you unwillingly, while John was thinking about your sweet little cunt.
The priest continued, “Repeat after me, my lady: I take you, John, to be my husband. I promise to be a loving and faithful wife. In sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth. I promise to love you for all the days of my life.”
You hesitated for a brief moment, thinking about everything that had happened over the past few months. Being brought here against your will, your father almost losing his head, and the unwanted responsibilities of being queen and producing heirs. But you were here for a reason, even while the war between duty and desire fought within your heart.
“I take you, John, to be my husband. I promise to be a loving and faithful wife. In sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth. I promise to love you for all the days of my life.” You spoke those dreaded words, sealing your fate forever. Tying the knot of submission and obedience for the rest of your life.
John felt a swell of triumph in his chest. You were now his, bound to him forever. Your union witnessed by all those gathered in the cathedral and the Gods up above, your vows unmistakable. He brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a claiming, possessive kiss to the skin of your knuckles, unable to wipe that smug look off his face.
The priest smiled, his voice echoing through the holy place, “Then by the power vested in me by the Gods, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
John didn't hesitate for a second; he pulled you in before you could resist, his strong arms wrapping around you to pull you flush against his broad chest before leaning down to claim your mouth. It wasn’t loving or tender; it was deep and dominating, needing to make it abundantly clear to everyone, including you, whose property you were now. The cathedral erupted in cheers from the crowd as John pulled away. Your lips tingled and were a little flushed from the contact of the kiss, while conflicting emotions of trepidation and uncertainty swirled in your chest. But you didn’t have much time to think about that, John was already walking you back down the aisle and out of the cathedral.
⋆。 ゚☁︎。 ⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。 ⋆⋆。 ゚☁︎。 ⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。 ⋆⋆。 ゚☁︎。 ⋆
As you arrive at the castle, John helps you out of the horse-drawn carriage, not passing up the moment to give your ass a little squeeze. He led you into the grand hall where servants milled about, and nobility and the high court chatted, in front of them a magnificent banquet had been laid out in their honour. The smell of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and decadent desserts filled the air around them, tempting you to come closer.
As John led you to your seat at the head of the table with him, servants rushed to attend to your every need, pouring rich wine into a goblet and offering little delicacies on silver platters. John sat close beside you, his thick, muscular thigh brushing against your own, his chest puffing out with pride now that he’s finally caught you in his web. As the feast began, John made sure you had the best cuts of meat and ensured your plate was always full. Under the table, his hand found your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. You nearly choked on your wine when you felt his hand slowly sliding up your thigh.
You gave John a look out of the corner of your eye, but he simply smiled back while his hand crept higher, his fingertips brushing against the silky material of your gown. “Is everything to your liking, my queen?” he murmurs, his thumb tracing slow circles on the inside of your thigh, “I want to make sure you're thoroughly satisfied in every way possible.” You tense up, feeling his hand cup your sex, his long fingers pressing into the silk of your wedding gown to rub against your clit. You jolt in your seat as warmth spreads through you, tingling up your spine as you shoot John a harsh glare before looking around the great hall, making sure no one is watching.
You chew your lower lip, trying your best to stifle a groan as John rubs slow, tight circles on your clit, feeling it swell under his touch. If you’d had a shorter dress on, there’s no doubt he’d push his fingers right inside your hot, wet cunt. He could feel the way your muscles twitched as he coaxed you closer and closer, an unfamiliar heat beginning to coil tightly in your tummy. There was no doubt in your mind that your cunt was dripping with the way you were clenching around nothing. It was hard to find the will to even care if the nobility were watching or had any idea what was going on under the table, a few feet away from them.
Just as you feel yourself about to come, John pulls away suddenly. You shoot him a look that could murder, but all he does is stand up and offer you his hand, a silent command to obey. You had been so lost in the heat of pleasure that you didn’t even notice that the music had started again and people were dancing. “Come, my love. We need to give the guests a show of our unity as king and queen.” He said gruffly, his patience wearing thin as he took your hand in his and tugged you up out of your seat and to the center of the hall.
“You’re cruel, your Majesty,” you huff out, your face burning up. John could feel your unsteadiness with the way you clung to him, your body pressing against him for stability. Your close proximity to John stoked the flames of his obsession; you could feel it when his nails dug into your bodice, as if he needed to keep you close, rooted in place. “My beloved queen, cruelty is not my intent. I merely wish to show you the pleasures that await you in the privacy of our chambers.” He purrs softly, leaning in to place a kiss on the sensitive spot behind your ear. 
You open your mouth to respond, but John’s already dragging you off the dance floor and into a narrow corridor off to the side. Torchlights lining the stone walls lit your path, casting eerie shadows that danced across the floor and walls around you. John guided you up the winding staircase, a knot of nerves forming in your stomach as you grew closer to the royal bedchambers where you would consummate the marriage and warm his bed for evermore. 
He can barely show any restraint, pushing you inside the royal chambers and towards the grand four-poster bed adorned with silken sheets and thick furs to ward off the chill of the north. As you sit down on the bed, you can already see the way John’s pupils are blown wide as he kneels on the ground before you, his large, calloused hands gentle as he removes the delicate silk slippers from your feet. “This is where you’ll spend the rest of your nights, in my bed, until I have filled your belly with my seed and planted my heirs within your womb.” He murmured, his hands travelling up your leg, massaging the tension out of your calf with skilled fingers before placing a hot kiss to your knee, his beard tickling the sensitive skin. 
His scarred hands pushed up the silk of your wedding gown until it bunched around your hips, and he couldn’t resist pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the insides of your thighs. You couldn’t suppress the moan that slipped past your lips, feeling the roughness of his beard on you or the heat of his mouth as John leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to your clit through your shift, nudging your thighs open with his broad shoulders. You leaned back on your elbows, watching him, his eyes glued to yours as he pushed up your shift to bunch around your hips along with the wedding gown. John leans in and drags his tongue slowly through your folds, licking up your honeyed nectar like a starved man. His nose nudges against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. He lingers there for a moment, watching your reaction as your hips lift instinctively.
He groans softly against you, muffled by your slick and swollen flesh, sending vibrations into you. He’s teasing you, his tongue thick and heavy as it slides from your cunt up to your clit, feeling the tender little bud throb under his ministrations. You’re practically weeping with frustration as you reach down to card your fingers through his thick hair, tugging on the strands to demand he does the job properly. John obliges, his tongue pushing inside you, curling to brush against your slick inner walls before dragging out ever so slowly. He continues like that, pushing in and fucking you with his tongue in a way that has your tummy clenching and your slick soaking his beard.
You let out a sharp cry of pleasure, feeling his lips wrap around your swollen clit and sucking on the tender little bud. He can feel you squirming beneath him, his hands holding your hips tightly to keep you in place while he feasts on your wet cunt with his hungry mouth. You're left gasping and trembling when he finally pulls away, his fingers working on the silk strings of your bodice to loosen it before tugging your wedding dress and shift off of you, tossing it away to pool on the floor beside the bed. He’s quick to shrug off his fur cloak and tunic, letting them join your dress before his lips meet your soft skin below your navel. “I pray to the Gods you’ll bless me with a son,” he murmurs against your skin, placing another kiss where your womb would be before claiming your lips.
His fingers tug at the strings on his breeches, allowing his cock to spring free. It was thick and long, too heavy to stand up on its own as it throbbed against his thigh. The mushroom-shaped head peeked out from underneath his foreskin, the tip already drooling with precum and flushed a deep, angry red. His heavy balls hung low between his thighs, heavy with the weight of his pent-up desire for you after all these years. “That’s it, love. Don’t get shy on me now.”
“I’ll be gentle at first, ease you into it.” He grunts gruffly, his large hand wrapping around his veiny length, giving it a few slow pumps, watching it throb with every beat of his heart, a testament to his virility. You nod your head slowly, allowing your thighs to part so he can slot his hips in between them. He guided his cock to your glistening folds, dragging the fat head up and down through your slick before slapping the tip against your clit a few times, earning him a yelp from you. 
With that, John lined the swollen head of his cock up with your entrance, your pussy lips parting around the broad crown as he slowly pushed forward, the bulbous head popping inside your tight little hole and tearing through your hymen, claiming you as his. Your fingers claw at the thick muscles of his back, his cock slowly sinking deeper into you, the intense stretch burning deliciously as he rocked his hips into your own, working more of his thick length into your hot, welcoming body until his balls pressed firmly against your ass. 
John gave you a moment to adjust, cooing sweet praises into your ear about how well you're doing, his beloved queen, his wife. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well,” he praised as he began to fuck into your sweet little cunt. Every drag of his veiny cock against your walls has you crying out in pleasure, the fat tip nudging against the gooey bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars. He can feel you clenching and rippling around his cock, your greedy pussy trying to milk his length, to draw his seed into your womb.
You felt his calloused hands on the backs of your thighs, pushing them towards your chest and nearly folding you in half. This new angle allowed him to sink deeper into you, and a few wall placed thrusts were all it took before you were creaming around his cock, your spine arched and your mouth open in a silent scream. You were squeezing John so tightly he could barely move, opting to roll his hips in a slow, deep grind, which coaxed groans from both of you. 
John’s hips stuttered before he buried himself deep, his cock throbbing violently before hot, thick ropes of cum spurted from the tip and directly into your womb, painting your cervix and walls white with the potent fluid. You could feel the warmth of it in your tummy as you both came down from your highs, John peppering gentle kisses against your neck and shoulders while he slowly pulled his softening cock out with a hiss. 
He was quick to tug you into his arms, wrapping one of the fur blankets around your trembling, slightly overstimulated form. “You did so well for me, my queen. So, so well,” he praised softly as he held you close, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, claiming you as his bride.
⋆。 ゚☁︎。 ⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。 ⋆⋆。 ゚☁︎。 ⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。 ⋆⋆。 ゚☁︎
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fernsdelight · 4 days ago
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Creepy Landlord!Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!reader
wc: 1065
Content warning: smut, p in v sex, slight dubcon, breaking and entering, stealing(Simon), predatory behaviour, taking advantage of you, unprotected sex, Simon's a creep (duh), technically breeding kink
Okay, so the rules for the apartment were kinda weird, but it was a great price for rent!
Female only. No males, friends, or family permitted inside. Rent is due on the first of each month. All maintenance is handled by the landlord.
So maybe it was super weird, kinda predatory, but $650 a month for a full, private apartment? You could turn a blind eye to all the other weird things happening behind the scenes. You didn’t even care if they were money laundering; you had a nice place to sleep!
You had met the landlord on your move-in date. He was ruggedly handsome, with short blond hair and a light dusting of stubble on his jaw. It looked like his nose had been broken a few times, and he didn’t say much to you, telling you his name was Simon before handing the keys over and allowing you to explore your new home. He’d given you his number for any issues you might have, explaining that he learned a few things from his time in the military.
And then he left you to your own accord. It took you a few days to fully unpack and set up your belongings, but the end result made it all worth it. The apartment was warm and cozy, filled with plush pillows and soft blankets for you. You had your small collection of houseplants by the window where the sunlight streamed in, a few of your favourite books sitting on the coffee table, and a nice view of the surrounding town. You couldn’t have asked for a better place to live.
A few weeks in though, you started to notice that a few pairs of your panties had gone missing, seemingly evaporating into thin air. You checked your room and the washer and dryer, but they were nowhere to be seen, until a few days later, three pairs sat on top of your clothes in the laundry basket.
Little did you know, Simon had come in just to check on how you were after the move in and saw a few pairs in your laundry basket. He grabbed them without a second thought and stuffed them into his pocket, a little treat for himself for giving you such a good deal for the apartment.
And he milked that treat for all it was worth, kind of like the way he was currently milking his cock. One pair of your panties was pressed against his face, the gusset of it right against his nostrils, breathing in your scent. Simon had the other pair wrapped up in his fist, stroking his fat cock, his calloused hand working up and down the veiny shaft while a steady stream of precum leaked out of the slit. Simon groaned and panted, feeling himself getting closer, the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching with the way his abdomens contracted and his hips jerked up to thrust into his tight fist. It only took a few more strokes before his heavy balls tightened up against his body and thick, hot ropes of cum spurted from his cock, painting his fist and your panties in the potent liquid.
When you plucked them out of your laundry basket, you could feel that there was some strange fluid crusted on the fabric, so you tossed them back in with disgust and washed your hands.
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Things were going great, until they weren’t. 
You had pulled a load of laundry from the dryer, only to find that the clothes were still wet. And when they didn’t dry after another cycle, you had to call Simon.
“Sorry love, looks like the ducts need to be cleaned out, that’ll cost a few hundred.” Simon explained after taking a look at the dryer. Your heart dropped hearing his word, a couple hundred? You didn’t have the money to spare.
“But… I could do it for you, you’d just owe me something.” he said gruffly as he cleans up his tool kit. You were a bit skeptical by what he meant, how could you possibly repay him for his work?
That led to your current situation, bent over the arm of the couch while Simon plowed into you from behind. His strong hips slapped against your ass with every thrust, a hand holding your hip in a bruising grip to keep pulling your sweet little cunt back on his fat cock. His body was blanketing your own, broad shoulders blocking out the light of the room, while the overgrown stubble on his jaw tickles your soft skin.
The veins on his cock dragged deliciously against your walls, the mushroom-shaped tip nudging up against the spongy bundles of nerves deep inside of you. All you can do is press your face into the pillows and cry out in pleasure as he moulds your pussy to fit his cock.
“That’s it lovie, scream for me.” He coos softly into your ear while his hand releases your hair and travels in between your sweat-slicked bodies to press the rough pad of his thumb against you and rub tight circles on your swollen clit. “You’re not going anywhere until I’ve had my fill of this gorgeous body.” He murmured softly against your skin, his accent thick with emotion, his lips peppered tender kisses along your shoulder blades.
He can feel your walls rippling and squeezing around his cock, your clit throbbing under the pad of his thumb. “Take it, pretty girl. It’s okay… you can come. I can feel your greedy pussy squeezing me.” Simon murmurs, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm before the hot coil in your tummy finally snaps.
You're shaking, gasping, your fingers dig into the cushions of your couch, trying to ground yourself as the first waves of pleasure wrack your body. The addictive high rushes through you, leaving you standing on shaky legs that threaten to buckle at any moment. But Simon wasn’t finished yet. His control began to slip, bucking his cock deeper into the warmth of your tight hole with a sloppy pace. Simon’s hips stuttered for a moment, his tip pressed against your cervix before he spurted hot, thick ropes of cum directly into your womb. 
You two lay against each other, sweat-slicked and panting from your highs, not a word needing to be said.
I guess you know why the rent was so cheap.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
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fernsdelight · 5 days ago
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Hunter of All
Slasher!Yandere!König x reader
wc: 1475
cw: cheating(not König), course language, violent content, murder, gore, yandere behaviour, technically kidnapping, dead dove, your boyfriend's a dick, blood, König's a weirdo (per usual).
“Can you just fuckin’ keep up?” your boyfriend shouted at you through the icy wind
The therapist at couples therapy recommended you to try a bonding activity to restore your trust in one another after your boyfriend’s recent infidelity.
“I’m trying, the snow is just really deep.” you shout back as you shuffle through the thick blanket of white powder, the wind bettering your body from every side.
Well, your little hiking trip in the Austrian Alps quickly turned into a disaster when an unexpected storm rolled in. A whiteout quickly ensued, freezing winds and fat snowflakes poured down from the dark sky, which created poor visibility. You didn’t know at what point you stepped off the path, but after you hit a false summit, you realized instantly that you had no idea where you were, and the sun was beginning to set, making the situation even more dire than it originally was.
“This is your fuckin’ fault. You have the map, you’re supposed to know where we were going, and now we’re lost!” He shouts at you while the snow swirled around the two of you and the wind screamed like a banshee.
“I’m sorry, okay?” You shout back as you hold a compass in your hand to figure out the direction you’re facing. “Yelling at me is not going to get us unlost. We need to find shelter for the night, and when the storm clears in the morning we can hike down and go home.”
Your boyfriend lets out a frustrated huff as he walks up to you, snatching the compass right out of your hand and taking the lead, leaving you to reluctantly trudge behind him through the deep snow.
It’s unfortunate that you had wandered off course and deep into the local hunter’s territory. But the worst part was that you couldn’t see the bear trap hidden under the thick layer of snow until your boyfriend stepped on it.
A scream of pure agony ripped from his throat, cutting through the sound of the blizzard. His leg was a bloody mess. The jaws of the trap had bitten into his flesh, the metal teeth snapping his fibula cleanly and tearing through the muscles of his calf. 
It was a horrific sight and you immediately ran over to help. You freeze for a moment, trying to figure out what to do before putting your foot on the metal and with the help of your boyfriend, prying open the teeth while your boyfriend screams.
Once you got the trap open and his leg pulled out you began to inspect the wound. Blood oozed out steadily and stained the pristine snow below, requiring a tourniquet above the knee to stop the flow of blood. He needed help, urgently, and while he hurled profanities both at you for bringing him here and at whoever placed the bear trap, you helped him up onto his feet. Luckily the fibula is not a weight-bearing bone, allowing him the ability to still walk, albeit with some pain.
“I’m sorry, but we have to keep on going. We could look for whoever placed the trap, they might live somewhere around here.” you suggest on a more positive note, trying to keep the spirits high despite your grim circumstances. “They could have a phone, or a first aid kit we can use for your leg, but we need to go now. You can only keep the tourniquet on for maybe two hours.” You explain to him before placing his arm around your shoulders to help him walk as the two of you venture into the unknown.
You couldn’t tell how long you trudged through the frozen woods, but it was long enough for the sun to begin setting behind the mountains and the temperature to begin rapidly plummeting. But there was, through the blanket of snow coming down, a little light off in the distance. You practically dragged your boyfriend through the snow who was exhausted from hiking and bloodloss towards the cabin nestled in the clearing and climbed the steps of the porch. Your hand raised into a fit and pounded on the front door a few times, praying to any god out there someone would answer.
The front door was ripped open and in the doorway stood the biggest man you’ve ever seen. He towered over the both of you and had to duck under the doorway to greet you.
You’re frozen in shock as the stranger’s blue eyes seemed to bore into your soul, and something seemed to click into place in his eyes. Nothing needed to be said as he looked between your desperate expression and the pale face of your boyfriend, along with his bloodied leg. The stranger stepped aside and held the door open for you while you mumbled a quick thank you and helped your boyfriend inside the cozy cabin.
The warmth of the cabin hit you immediately as you stepped inside. The front door slammed shut behind you, sealing you inside with a click of two locks and the sounding of a sliding deadbolt. The stranger quickly took your boyfriend from you and ushered him into the nearby bathroom before closing the door behind him, leaving you alone for a moment in the cabin.
The adrenaline crash hit you heavily, causing you to sit down in one of the stuffed armchairs while you took a moment to recover and examine your surroundings. It was cozy and warm here, animal furs laid across the stuffed furniture in the room, a deer head was mounted on the wall along with a few photos that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were sitting. A plush rug surrounded the roaring fire that was keeping you warm and alive currently. This would be a nice place for a couples retreat with you and your boyfriend sometime.
Your boyfriend…
Oh fuck, you left him alone with that stranger!
You shoot up from the armchair in a panic, running towards the bathroom door before grabbing the handle and wrenching it open. And there your boyfriend laid, his neck split open while he gurgled and choked on his own blood. His face was twisted in horror, his eyes wide with fear as his hands clamped over both his internal carotid arteries which were slit and squirting blood onto the tile floor beneath him. And there the culprit sat, on the edge of the bathtub, staring down at his victim with a skinning knife in his hand looking impassive and frankly, quite bored.
A scream of horror tore from your throat watching your boyfriend fight for his life on the bathroom floor. You feel faint just looking at how much blood has spurted out of his neck, coating the bathroom floor, the cupboards, and the walls. You stumble backwards, your sympathetic nervous system kicking into full gear telling you to flee as the stranger stands up to his full, towering height and follows you out of the bathroom.
You barely got two steps out of the living room before his arm wrapped around your waist and hauled you off the ground and against his chest. You screamed and struggled, your fists swinging wildly in an attempt to fight him off, to try and rid yourself of the guilt of bringing your boyfriend here by hurting his murderer. The wind was knocked from your lungs when you were thrown down on the couch, the man following quickly after to hold you down.
“He told me everything, Liebling. He doesn’t deserve you, but I do.” He murmurs softly to you, hot warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear while you gasp for air. “Shh, my love. No more tears. I’m your new boyfriend now.” he cooed to you before dragging you up from the couch and towards the basement. He grew angry when you began to fight him again, his grip shifting to your hair, tugging on the strands as he dragged you down the stairs. He tosses you on a dirty mattress sitting in the corner before ripping away your jacket and backpack, leaving you vulnerable to the cold while he chains your wrists to the wall.
He stands over you with a satisfied smile, taking in your haunted expression and the way you tremble. “I would have never cheated.” He says, his words coming out like a taunt, a slap in the face to you. He stares at you blankly, expecting you to respond to him, but nothing comes out, your throat feeling dry while your brain struggles to keep up with the situation. “It’s rude to stare, Liebling. It's unbecoming of you as my spouse.” He grunts out, unsatisfied with you, before he’s turning his back on you and heading up the creaky old stairs, sealing you inside your own little world in the basement.
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fernsdelight · 9 days ago
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Stalker!Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader
cw: stalking, unsolicited gifts and letters, some NSFW content, technically dead dove.
words: 530
Maybe trying to save money while going to school wasn’t the smartest idea.
Sure, the rent was cheap, but the area of the city was a little sketchy, but you made it home. A few candles, houseplants, and plush pillows make the space feel much cozier and more welcoming.
But you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you, and you had good reason for your suspicions.
Small, handwritten notes began appearing in your kitchen. They were simple at first, super creepy since they were seemingly appearing out of thin air, but innocent. Little compliments on how beautiful you looked today, accompanied by doodles of flowers, hearts, and the occasional skull.
You checked your windows and door locks every time you went to bed or went outside, but the notes kept on coming, alongside a few gifts. I guess the lack of home security was the trade-off for cheap rent.
A box of chocolates sat on your counter when you arrived home in the evening, alongside a note praising you for doing so well in school. A week later, a bundle of forget-me-nots were on your nightstand beside a small letter confessing how much your stalker loves you.
So much indeed, that they wanted to put their hot mouth on your wet…what? And push their tongue inside of your…where?
That note had a little doodle of a ghost at the bottom, and had your face burning in embarrassment. But you couldn’t deny the way your stalker’s affections for you made you aching and hot.
You knew you’d gone crazy when you began leaving your own sticky notes in your home so you could communicate with Ghost, as you called them, based on the frequent drawings of ghosts on their letters. It made you feel a little less lonely, a little safer knowing you had someone “looking out” for you
And then it happened one day.
You arrived home late at night, tired from your long day, and all you wanted to do was curl up in your warm bed and go to sleep. But sitting there on your comforter among your blankets was a gift box.
You sat down on your bed and placed the box on your lap, taking great care when you undid the ribbon on top and pulled off the lid. Another letter sits inside on the tissue paper, a bottle of lube… and— oh my God— is that a dildo? No, it's a silicone replica of a cock.
You hesitantly reach into the box, wrapping your fingers around the silicone and pulling it out to inspect it in the lamplight.
It was long and thick. The weight of it was heavy in your hand, and the mushroom-shaped tip promised a delicious stretch. Ghost’s cock was a thing of beauty, heavily veined with a slight upward curve before flaring out at the base. It was hard not to gawk at it when you set it down on the bed. Your attention drifted back to the letter sitting there, short and sweet in length.
“I hope you like your gift, love. Start slow with it and stretch yourself out, because I won’t take the time to.”
— Ghost
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fernsdelight · 11 days ago
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Yandere King!John Price x f!reader
cw: John is a creep, slight NSFW, technically kidnapping, forced marriage, mentions of pregnancy, slight violence
wc: 1173
King Jonathan Price, first of his name, and ruler of the Emerald Isles was getting older.
He was pushing into his 40s and had no heirs; he didn’t even have a wife to make his heirs. Despite his age, the king was still handsome and fit, never mind what the few grey hairs and healthy layer of fat over his muscles said. He was still one of the wisest and best swordsmen in the entire kingdom, so it would be no surprise that High Lords would be throwing their daughters at him in hopes of marrying into the royal family.
So the hunt began for a suitable bride for the king. But what his advisors didn’t know was that John had chosen his bride already.
The first time he saw you was at a ball hosted by your father. John didn’t attend for the sake of the ball, but rather to discuss food production and land disputes amongst the Lords in attendance. But when you caught his eye from across the room, the soft silks and glimmering jewels laid on your skin called to him like a moth to a flame. 
From that moment forward, he knew he needed you. He craved your presence like a man starved for oxygen, like a hole had been dug out in his sternum that only you could fill. It was a pity that you were too young to wed at the time, but John stayed patient and decided he could wait a few more years for his forbidden fruit to ripen.
And as he waited, he gathered the most beautiful jewels from across the realm, employed the best seamstresses to sew custom-made gowns for you, and hunted the most ferocious beasts for you, collecting their furs to make into plush blankets. He couldn’t have his bride, his Queen, living in anything less than luxury. He needed to keep you warm at night, to make sure you were content as he fucked into your hot, wet cunt, planting his heir deep inside your womb.
When you had come of age and finally blossomed into the beautiful woman you were, John sent off his letter to your father requesting your hand in marriage. He was a King for God’s sake and was more than polite and accommodating for someone of his status compared to what your father, a lowly Lord, had deserved.
But it was quite the slap in the face when your father had rejected John’s marriage request for the Lord’s only, and most beloved daughter.
The King couldn’t have that type of disrespect, could he? No, absolutely not.
A second letter followed shortly after the first, detailing the way John would march his armies south and destroy the lowly Lord’s lands, and he would take you for himself if he was refused again. John was still quite good with his sword after all these years, and it would be such a terrible shame if your father were beheaded before he could witness the great honour of you getting married to the King.
This led you to the current moment. Standing in the opulent throne room in front of a very smug King John as he looked you over slowly, his triumphant grin growing wider with every inch of you he took in. It was hard to deny the temptation of the life John would give to you, but you were here for a reason: to offer up your fertile womb to be blessed by his seed, and to beg for your father’s life, but that was for another time when you had proved your loyalty. 
“My Lady, I trust your journey here was comfortable and without conflict?” he practically purred, so satisfied that you're finally here in the capital city. There was no point in even replying to him; his most loyal and elite knights had personally retrieved you from your home in the southern lands and brought you here.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” you mutter out reluctantly, trying to stay polite as you offer him a tight smile. “But… I cannot marry you,” you say bluntly, wiping the smile right off of his face.
You watched as John’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, his face falling for a short moment to show you the madness swirling in his eyes. He rose slowly, his tall and broad frame adorned with rich silks that were embroidered with gold, and a fur cloak that rested over his shoulders to ward off the chill of the north. He descended the steps of the dais and towered over you, requiring you to crane your neck back to maintain eye contact with him.
“Cannot marry me?” John repeated coldly. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the throne room at that moment, you couldn’t move or breathe as you stared up at him, the manic and obsessive glint in his eyes paralyzing you in place. You gasp in distress as he grabs onto your arm tightly enough to bruise your delicate skin and pulls you into his chest. His strong arms encircle your waist, crushing you against his broad, strong frame, but not in a loving embrace, but rather like he was trying to snap your spine so you couldn’t walk anymore.
“My Lady, your father has tainted your mind, but do not fret, I will save you,” he declared to you. The obsession had woven its way deep into the crevices of his brain, rotting away any rational thought and leaving behind a gaping hole that needed to be filled with you. John could feel you trembling in his arms, your heart pounding against his chest like a rabbit caught in the maw of a wolf.
“Your father’s refusal was… unfortunate. But it matters not now. Here, as my wife, you will want for nothing. You will bear my heirs with a smile on your lovely face,” He coos to you softly, his rough, calloused hand coming up to stroke your cheek in a gentle manner, though you could feel the way he was holding back the urge to strangle you for your transgressions. “And if you continue to fight me on this matter, I’ll bring you your father’s head. Think of it as a wedding gift.” He murmured softly before releasing you abruptly and stepping away, his features turning cold again as he returned to his throne.
“Sir Simon.” John barks. A burly, tall knight steps out from the shadows, his armor and longsword glinting in the torchlight. “Please escort the Lady to her chamber’s, see to it she is made comfortable.” Before you can protest the knight grabs you roughly by your upper arm and begins to drag you away while you claw at his gloved hand, cursing at him to let you go.
Just before you’re dragged out of the throne room, you catch John’s eye. A mocking smirk slowly forms on his face while he plans how to break you down into his obedient wife. “I’m looking forward to our wedding night, my Lady.”
Part 2
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fernsdelight · 12 days ago
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Yandere!Simon "Ghost" Riley
tw: dead dove do not eat, Stockholm Syndrome, small mention of blood, tiny sexual content, yandere behaviour, Simon is crazy
wc: 1004
It had been months since he’d taken you
Steam curled upwards in the cool air of the bathroom. The bathtub sat against the far wall, filled with hot water. You sat in the tub, contemplating where it all went wrong, that maybe if you had reached out to him sooner, he wouldn’t have turned out like this. Simon crouched behind you, his sleeves rolled up around his elbows to reveal his thick forearms, the left one coated in tattoos up to his elbow. His fingers carded through your hair, surprisingly gentle, while he took his time to wash your scalp. You couldn’t tell at what point Stockholm Syndrome began to take over your mind, when your walls had come down enough to let him touch you, albeit reluctantly, “no” was never an option for you.
Suds fall down your neck, the pleasant scent of lavender soap making you feel sick to your stomach instead. Simon hums a song behind you, his short fingernails brushing against your scalp before he rinses your hair out. “Awfully quiet tonight, love. You’ve finally realized how good I can be for you.” Simon mutters behind you gruffly, his hand reaching out for the wash cloth before lathering soap onto the fabric. You chew your lower lip, refusing to respond to his strange comment, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing your voice he craves so dearly. His hands are thorough when he begins washing your shoulders, his calloused fingers curling over the acromion of your scapula. His hands drift downwards to your arms, showering your beloved soulmate mate, his name, with tenderness that belied his size.
“Fuckin’ love looking at this mark, proves that your mine even if you mouth won’t admit it.” He says, his warm breath fanning against the nape of your neck, his cock beginning to chub up deliciously in his tactical pants from the close proximity. “Say it. Say that you're mine.” He murmurs in a harsher tone while his fingers curl around your wrist. His grip tightens, threatening to break the distal end of your radius under the intense pressure. You look over your shoulder at him, noticing the manic, almost crazy look in his eyes, like a junkie needing a fix; and that fix was you.
“I’m your’s, Simon, okay?” You murmured out nervously, frightened by the way his pupils dilate when making eye-contact with you, hoping to satisfy his insatiable appetite for your attention for at least a second. He grunts as a reply, seemingly satisfied with your response for now, and turns his attention back to washing your skin, making sure his prized possession is soft and clean. However, the steel collar never came off, no matter if it left you bruised and chaffed around your neck, even if you cried and begged him to remove it. 
“You’ve been so good for me lately, no talking back, no beggin’ to go home, no tears. I think you deserve a reward for that, don’t you think, love?” Simon coos to you softly as his hand begins to drift down your stomach and towards your thighs while he pants into your ear with anticipation. You shiver reluctantly, the soulmate bond overpowering your senses of what’s right and wrong. You lean back against the side of the tub, beginning to zone out again like you always do when Simon wants to explore your body, but before your eyes glaze over and you retreat back into your mind, your eyes find the glass bottle of conditioner sitting across from you.
It was like the last piece of the puzzle finally clicking together to show you the complete picture, the light at the end of the tunnel of how to escape this hellhole. Just as Simon’s fingers brushed against the inside of your thighs, your fingers wrapped around the nozzle of the bottle. He was too enthralled with your submission to notice you swinging the glass bottle at him, never expecting his soft, obedient captive would do something like this. As the glass made contact with the side of his skull, you swore you heard a crack, the temporal bone fracturing from the blow. Simon's hands immediately retract from your body and he stumbles back, dazed and groaning in pain while one of his hands reaches up to touch the side of his head. It doesn’t take you long to climb out of the tub and seize the opportunity of Simon’s incapacitated state before your up the stairs and out of the basement, leaving Simon behind gripping the bathroom counter while he’s blinded by the pain, a small trickle of blood dripping down into his ear.
You shouldered open the basement door and step on to the first floor. Your cold, wet skin is met with the heat from the fireplace, causing you to shiver. It was your first time upstairs since the night he had taken you away. You could hear the heavy footsteps of Simon’s boots downstairs, he was pissed and coming upstairs to drag you back down to the basement by your hair if he needed to. You had seconds to think as you reached for one of the winter jackets hanging on the rack by the front door, quickly putting it on to cover your own nudity before grasping the door handle and twisting it, thanking every God you can think of when it clicks open.
Dread pools in your gut as you hear Simon’s footsteps on the stairs chasing after you until you see him in the corner of your eye, standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders barely having enough room to get past. His eyes were wild with anger as he gripped the doorframe to keep himself steady. The blow to his skull would’ve sent a lesser man to the emergency room, but Simon was not a lesser man. His pupils were pinpoint as he pushed off the doorframe and reached for you just as you pulled open the door and hurled yourself out into the blizzard.
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fernsdelight · 13 days ago
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Psycho Soulmate
tw: stalking, kidnapping, drug use, small mention of war.
Words: 873
Soulmates are a blessing, a gift from the universe itself. A bond meant to be cherished and nurtured between two lovers. At least, that’s what you were told. It hurt, the acrid stench of your flesh burning on your forearm. White-hot pain blinded you for a moment while your fingers curled around your bedsheets while you sobbed into the plush pillows. God did it hurt, but what was left behind was something to be marveled at. Thin black letters written across the osft skin of your inner forearm, marking the intimate bond between you and a man named Simon Riley.
It was simple, innocent at first, feeling gentle touches and tingling on your skin through the soulmate bond throughout the day. It made you less lonely, even if he wasn’t physically there with you, it felt comforting to know he was thinking about you, touching your name on his own arm. But at night, that was when the bond grew stronger.
You were tethered to Simon. When you fell asleep at night you shared memories as dreams with him. Scenes of war and anguish flooded your mind. Frozen tundras and scorching deserts, rural and urban areas ravaged by gunfire, IED’s, and trash. The sounds of gunfire and cries and screams of pain frightened you. Seeing people suffering from various gory wounds, missing limbs and damaged tissues on both civilians and enemies bodies. You watched through Simon’s eyes the horrors of being a soldier, heard him screaming out for more support or a medic, the memories of the different mission and tours he went on. But with the bad came the good memories too.
Dreams of his teammates filled your mind some nights. You learned about the deep bond of brotherhood they shared together through blood, sweat, and death. You watched through Simon’s eyes, meeting Johnny, Kyle, and Price.
However, lately the bond has grown away from being innocent love and into a twisted, ugly obession. Maybe it’s you being paranoid, the stress of life and living on your own beginning to get to you, but your dreams—Simon’s more recent memories—tell you otherwise. It looked like he was preparing for the apocalypse, stashing non-perishable foods, clothes, blankets, and survival gear. But the more sinister items came later.
A mattress was thrown down into the basement, chains were attached to the cracking cement of the wall, a steel collar awaited to be placed on someone’s neck, the heavy weight a mark of ownership. Those were the nights you awoke in a cold, clammy sweat, not believing your soulmate was capable of sinister actions like that. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and you told yourself that it was just a coincidence when he began to search for you, combing through the internet for your presence.
It had you growing more and more fearful, the dreams of his recent memories turning into nightmares that you couldn’t even escape during the day. The images of the dilapidated and dark basement flashed through your mind while you tried to focus of work and school. The walls were cracked and the floors were cold concrete. The thin, stained mattress sat in the corner underneath a small window high up on the wall, but too small to fit through. It was like the light from the window was mocking you as it shined down on the steel collar and heavy chains.
It was hard to cope with the dreams, but it slowly got easier as they grew shorter and fewer, but the tingling and warmth in your forearm grew stronger.
You were getting ready for bed one night and going through your routine of locking the deadbolt for your front door before heading back to bed and sliding under the warm covers. Simon no longer plagued your thoughts, seeming like his mind had finally gone quiet—but it was all a facade.
How foolish of you to think you were safe in your own home. How naive to allow yourself to drift off to sleep while the lock on the front door was being opened—the missing spare key from under the flowerpot outside now all makes sense to you. And when a board-shouldered figure figure ducks under the doorway to your bedroom, a skull mask adorning his figure, how senseless of you to not scream for help.
He advances on you instantly, crossing the room in a few strides to pull you into his thick, muscular arms. You wake at the sudden contact, your soulmate's name on your arm tingles as he clamps his calloused hand over your mouth to stifle any noises and stuffs your face into the pillows. He holds you down while he pulls out a syringe full of clear liquid, the metal of the needle lit up from the moonlight streaming in. “Hold still for me, love, I’m taking you home where you belong,” he coos gruffly in a thick, Manchester accent. Your soulmate presses the plunger down, pushing the liquid into your veins while he whispers to you how sorry he is for not coming sooner. Your world slowly fades to black, the final thing on your mind is the steel collar destined for your neck, a gift from your soulmate—Simon Riley.
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